The Zen Master Meets Poor Little Rich Girl
by taylorswiftrox
Summary: Hyde has always been skeptical of Jackie, but will a discussion bring along mutual feelings for each other? The conversation sparks a new connection, a new connection that will bring their lives together for once.


_Point Place, Wisconsin_

_August 13th, 1975_

_3:16 PM_

_Location: Eric Forman's Basement_

"What are you doing here?"

I looked up to find a pint-sized girl standing in front of me, her carefully manicured fingers on her hips. Of course I knew who she was-Jackie freaking Burkhart, AKA the richest girl in town; a conceited, spoiled brat. Unfortunately I had the pleasure of knowing her almost as long as I'd known Eric-since I was 8. Ever since then, I did everything in my power to keep her away from me and it wasn't that hard since she went to some private school a few towns over and lived on the completely opposite end of town than me. That all changed when Daddy decided to send her to public school two years ago and her little 11 year old self decided to follow us around every chance she got.

I considered her question carefully. Did she mean what I was doing here alone in the Forman's basement or what I was doing here on Earth? Either way it was probably the same question that would most likely require the same answer. My answer, though, was as bland as could be. "What are _you _doing here?"

"I asked you first." She sat down on the couch and straightened out her short pink skirt.

I sighed and tried to think of what to say that wouldn't set her off or get me out of the Zen state I had worked on for most of the day to get into. I shrugged. "I got bored."

Jackie twisted one of her long black curls around her finger. "What's the real reason you're here?"

I sighed again; sooner or later she was going to find out my life story-nearly everybody near me did-so I caved. "Do you want the short version or the long one?"

"I'm here for a while," came her reply.

"Okay then. To put it nicely my mom's a crazy psychopath who cares more about her latest hook-up of the hour than her own son. My dad left us when I was a kid and I haven't seen him since. The Formans practically raised me since I met them and I don't know what I did before then." I stopped and looked at Jackie who was actually paying attention. I scanned the room to make sure no one was listening and then continued in a quieter voice. "I've had a huge crush on Donna for as long as I can remember, but I know that she and Eric are both head over heels for each other even though they don't want to admit it so I have to stay on the sidelines. That's why I'm here: to try and win the heart of a girl I know I'll never have and to get a decent meal every once and a while." I leaned back in the chair that I'd claimed a few years back as my own with satisfaction.

"Don't you want to hear my back story?"

I groaned. "Not really, but I'm going to have to anyway."

Jackie grinned and then dropped the smile as she tried to think of what she was going to say. "You think I've had the best childhood, don't you? Of course you do, everyone does."

"As far as I know you think that one less pony on your birthday qualifies as being a traumatic experience, but I guess you're going to tell me otherwise." I clasped my hands behind my afro head of hair, ready for a battle of words.

Jackie ignored what I said and continued, a quality I would have to grow used to in the years to come. "All my life I've been forced to adapt to a dad who says he's handling a case in New York when he's really on a month vacation in Europe with his latest mistress. My mom isn't any better either; she disappears sporadically to Mexico and comes back with an already used shot glass as a present." She paused, collecting her breath; she looked like as if she might cry. "Before I started coming over here I was raised by nannies and maids. I may not look it, but I could probably cook dinner from a cookbook in any language, polish the silverware, do laundry, and still have time to clean the rest of the house in less than two hours. That's what spending most of your weekends of your childhood with the help can do to you."

I played this over in my head. Could it really be possible that this annoying shrimp was actually less better off than me? I forced the Zen in me to break through to my sensitive side. "Then why do you act like you're better than everyone else, like you've never worked for anything in your life?"

She questioned me right back. "Why do you act like you're just some normal kid like any one you'd see at school?"

It hit me, right, then, that we were actually having a real conversation without fighting, just two friends enjoying each other's company. "Because I don't like having people feeling sorry for me. It's like they feel they're responsible for my messed up world."

"Exactly. I'm tired of hearing people whispering, 'Did you see that Burkhart girl walking with her mom? I don't think I've seen in her in months.' Or the normal one: 'It's a shame she's all alone.' The Formans are two of the few people who know what I've been through and deal with it the way I want it to be treated: like it's not happening and I'll talk about it when I want to it. They're the only family I have, but I like it that way."

I looked at her, like _really _looked at her. Past her black curls; past her tan skin; past the shoulders I once pinned against the wall when she called me poor; past the legs that carried her almost three miles after Kelso, Eric, and I chased her with water guns. All the way down to the heart that had been broken by her parents and would one day be shattered again by the idiot I call a best friend, mended by me, then broken by me over and over until I finally decided to make it right again.

Calmly she asked, "What are you looking at?"

I blinked over and over and brought my eyes up to her own. "Nothing," I replied. "So you have your sights on Kelso, don't you?"

"What? No!" She blushed and threw her hands over her face.

"Come on, everyone knows you like him." A light bulb went off in my head. "I got an idea. If I find out if Kelso likes you, will you try and sabotage Eric and Donna?"

Jackie grinned once more and held out her hand. "Jacqueline B. Burkhart, professional sabatoger at your service.

I inched back for a second, but stopped myself. Finally, I did something I should have done almost 8 years before: I outstretched my hand as well. "So friends?"

Jackie confirmed it with a nod. "Friends."

"Just as long as you don't tell anybody," I threw back.

"Deal," Jackie agreed. She sat back and there was a long silence for a while, but, for some reason, I don't think either of us cared.

"Hey," I laughed. "Mind if I borrow those shot glasses some time?"

This time Jackie's grin was something like a devil's, like I'd always expect her to have. "I know exactly where we can get the tequila."


End file.
